Home Run
by Maltodextrate
Summary: When Vegeta shows up at Yamcha's baseball game, Yamcha wonders what will happen as the hours tick by during the drive home. YAOI. DISCONTINUED, REASON INSIDE!
1. Default Chapter

Title: Home Run  
  
Rating: R for sexual scenes and language. Not for the younger readers.  
  
Summary: When Vegeta shows up at Yamcha's baseball game, Yamcha wonders what will happen as the hours tick by during the drive home. YAOI.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Vegeta or Yamcha, or any of the character for that matter, save for a select few I threw in there for good measure.  
  
I hope you enjoy!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Yamcha loved this game. He loved the smell of leather that bound the baseball, the satisfying 'crack' as the bat hit the ball, the deafening cheers that erupted all around with one of his famed, powerhouse home runs. He could run faster, hit harder, and play better than any player in his league.  
  
Yamcha loved baseball.  
  
Tonight was the busiest night he had ever seen, and that was saying a lot. Nearly six thousand people were in attendance and the noise was wonderfully loud. Even in the awful din he could hear the loud shouts from the snack stand and the scent of hamburgers and hotdogs wafting his way. A smile played across his lips. He leaned non-chalontly against the chain-link fence and balanced the bat on his shoulder. He was up to bat in about three turns and wasn't even bothering to take any practice swings like the others. He ran his eyes over the crowd, taking in the people's faces. There was a redheaded woman with her little boy. She was handing him a hotdog and smiling as he was babbling on about something. Next to her were two teenaged boys in traditional baseball shirts and they were talking amongst themselves about cards they held in their hands. Yamcha relaxed on the wooden bench and continued to scan the crowd. Parents and children, obsessed teenagers, and old men in baseball caps seemed to be the majority of fans out there today.  
  
Suddenly, Yamcha froze. All thought processes ceased as he spotted the man leaning against the wall to the far right.  
  
Wh... What is he doing here?   
  
His expression was closed off and bored as it usually was. He wore a pair of black, boot cut jeans that fell past the heals of his sneakers. They hugged him wonderfully, like they were made especially for him. His white tank top with black, spiked design scrolling across the front gave Yamcha a perfect view of his tanned, muscular arms.  
  
Yamcha felt as if he couldn't breath. He could barely feel his teammate stand up and walk out onto the field. It would soon be his turn.  
  
Why is he here? What the hell is he doing?  
  
"Hey!" Yamcha was jerked back to reality as another teammate smacked him in the arm. "You're up!"  
  
As Yamcha walked out onto the field, he was acutely aware of an awful nervousness in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't felt that in such a long time that it frightened him. He took his place over the plate and frowned.   
  
This is no time to be nervous... no... This one is for him.  
  
Yamcha swung with not ALL his might, but damn close to it. A loud, resounding CRACK was issued forth as his bat met the ball. It soared up at a forty-five degree angle, up into the sky and over the bleachers. The crowd went insane as he rounded the plates, trying desperately not to look in the direction he wanted to. Was he impressed? No, probably not. This was just a stupid game, after all. It would mean nothing to him.  
  
As he trotted to home plate, he was bombarded by ecstatic teammates. Oh, yeah. He just won them the game, didn't he? Yamcha shook his head and turned to look at him.  
  
He was gone.  
  
Yamcha's heart sank into his empty stomach.  
  
Damn.  
  
Had he seen that? It was intended for him, after all. Why did that man have to be such an ass?! Yamcha resisted the urge to deck his teammates as they thumped him in the back and screamed and cheered. What the hell did it matter?  
  
Vegeta was gone anyway.  
  
Yamcha slunk into the changing room and grabbed his clothes before any more thumping could ensue. He hurriedly undressed and jumped under the cold water of the shower. His buddies stumbled in, laughing happily.  
  
"Yeah! Man, you rock, Yamcha! Hey, what's the hurry?" Yamcha shook his head and sprayed them with droplets of water.  
  
"Sorry," he managed. "I have somewhere to be." Hoots and snickers rose all around.  
  
"Ooooh, got a lady waitin', eh Yamcha?" Laughter assaulted his ears as Yamcha shook his head in disgust and pulled on his khaki shorts and buttoned up his white, oversized shirt. It was his favorite one, the one where he always rolled up the sleeves and left the top few buttons undone. This was the only shirt he owned with a collar. After all, he couldn't be seen as a dork, now could he?  
  
"Yeah man, whatever. I'll catch you later." He hurried away from the catcalls and out into the dark parking lot. It was nearly eight-thirty at night, which was relatively early for one of his games to be finished at. He slipped over to his car and tossed his bag into the back seat. Just as he shut the door, a voice startled him.  
  
"Running off so soon?" Yamcha sighed mentally. He did NOT want to deal with HIM now.  
  
"What do you want, Kinuue?" Kinuue flashed him a malicious smile. He still sported the opposing team's uniform. Oh, how he hated this man.  
  
"Oh, nothing. Just wondering, where's that hot little lady who's usually hanging off you right about now? Sweet little thing, ain't she?" Yamcha turned on him with a growl.  
  
"Don't EVER talk about Bulma like that." Kinuue laughed awfully.  
  
  
  
"My, aren't we protective. So where is she?" Yamcha turned away silently and walked around the front of the car.  
  
  
  
"Aaaw, don't tell me you broke up! Sweet! Now that little slut's comin' with me!" Yamcha was just about to jump over the car and give him what for when:  
  
"I'd advise you to leave now before something bad happens." Kinuue blinked and turned to see Vegeta standing behind him, his arms folded over his chest and a cold, hard expression shining in his eyes.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" Kinuue asked angrily, peeved at being snuck up on.  
  
  
  
"Your undoing if you don't leave NOW. Now GO." Kinuue glared down at him.  
  
"Look shorty, I don't know who the hell-" Vegeta didn't even let him finish the statement before he slammed his fist into his jaw and sent him flying back into the hood of a nearby truck. He crashed right through the windshield and lay in the front seat senselessly.  
  
Yamcha stared at Vegeta astounded.  
  
  
  
"What are you doing here?" Yamcha asked, but Vegeta didn't get a chance to answer as the owner of the truck and several of Kinuue's teammates came racing up.  
  
"Shit!" Yamcha exclaimed. Without a second thought, he flung open the door and dove in, shouting over his shoulder to the smaller man, "Get in!" Vegeta glanced behind him and hopped in as Yamcha brought the engine to life. Yamcha slammed on the gas, spraying their pursuers with gravel as he tore out of the parking lot. Yamcha caught Vegeta's smirk as the prince glanced over his shoulder at the enraged men who were now hauling Kinuue out of the truck's front seat.  
  
Yamcha was startled to find the nervousness he had felt out on the field return full-force. He swallowed hard and chanced a look over to the smaller man. Having him sitting in the passenger's seat not two feet from him was freaking him out.  
  
"What were you doing there?" Yamcha managed to ask while fixing his gaze on the road before him. They were traveling down a two-lane road of black asphalt that glittered under his high beams. Tall trees surrounded them on both sides; small beams of moonlight streamed through the leaves onto the road.  
  
"I wanted to know why you humans are so interested in that sport. It seemed pretty pointless in my opinion." That hurt Yamcha deeper than he was willing to admit to himself. So he thought he wasted his time on pointless things, did he?  
  
"It's not pointless. I get paid for doing it, anyway." Yamcha winced embarrassedly at the last statement. That was a pretty stupid thing to say.  
  
"Hm. Whatever." Yamcha thanked the darkness as a blush of shame crossed his cheekbones at Vegeta's scornful tone.  
  
  
  
"Well what now?" he asked blandly. He could feel Vegeta's eyes on him. "Where do you wanna go I mean." Vegeta turned his gaze out the front window again.  
  
  
  
"I suppose wherever you are going. I have nowhere to be." Yamcha raised an eyebrow.  
  
  
  
"What, you're not worried about Bulma biting your head off for disappearing?" He was a bit taken aback by Vegeta's glare.  
  
  
  
"No," he said coldly. "I am not worried. She can scream all she wants, I don't care." Yamcha blinked.  
  
"Did you guys get into a fight?" Vegeta made a 'tch' noise between his teeth.  
  
  
  
"If you could call it that. I'm sick of that woman. She's nothing but an annoyance." Yamcha's nervousness increased in the silence that followed.  
  
"If you hate her that much..." Yamcha tried slowly. "Why don't you just leave? Find somewhere else to live." He glanced over at the silent prince, hoping for a response.  
  
  
  
"Hm."  
  
Well, that's better than nothing.  
  
  
  
"I mean you don't need her, do you? You could get a job and..." Yamcha let the sentence trail off as embarrassment overtook him. Vegeta was watching him, his expression blank.  
  
"Continue."  
  
Yamcha blinked at him.  
  
  
  
"Well... I know you're good with things like vehicles and ships. After all, you did grow up around them. You could get a job as, like, one of those guys who fixes and builds them. It pays pretty good..." Vegeta continued to look at him for a few excruciatingly long minutes.  
  
  
  
"Really." Yamcha couldn't bring himself to look over at him. "Not that bad of a plan, human." Yamcha was overcome by surprise. Vegeta just gave him a complement! Well, sort of.  
  
  
  
"Besides," Yamcha said with a small smile. "You know Bulma would be pissed if you did, which makes all that much more fun." Vegeta smirked and leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes.  
  
"I don't hate her."  
  
Yamcha absently turned on his blinker as he came upon the exit that would take him home.  
  
"Really? I just thought since-"  
  
"She bothers me, yes, but I don't hate her." Yamcha swallowed at the lump of dread in his throat. He needed to ask this; he needed to know terribly. It had been driving him insane for the past few months and now he had his chance to ask. He was risking Vegeta's temper and possible physical injury, but he had to know.  
  
"Do you... love her?"  
  
  
  
Vegeta remained in his current position, eyes closed and arms folded, for a few moments. The seconds that ticked by made Yamcha want to run the red light and smash into the oncoming semi-truck.  
  
  
  
"Not the way I should." Yamcha pressed his foot down on the gas as the light turned green  
  
  
  
"What do you mean?" Vegeta shrugged his shoulder uncomfortably.  
  
  
  
"I'm not ignorant. I know how she feels." Yamcha turned onto his street.  
  
"Why haven't you ever used that against her? You could make her leave you alone-"  
  
"I WILL NOT," Vegeta interrupted him. "Do something like that." The cold tone in his voice surprised Yamcha. "I don't need to stoop that low."  
  
  
  
"Sorry," Yamcha mumbled confusedly. "It was just a suggestion." Why did doing something like that disgust Vegeta so much? Yamcha himself wasn't past it; it was rather effective in getting women to leave him alone.  
  
"Hm," was all Vegeta said. Yamcha pulled the car to a stop in his driveway, horrified at the fact that he had unthinkingly brought Vegeta home with him.  
  
  
  
"Shit! I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."  
  
"It doesn't matter. Tell me," Vegeta leaned over and opened his door. "How do you play... what was it called?" Yamcha opened his own door and stepped out.  
  
  
  
"Baseball? Oh, it's pretty easy, really. The rules anyway. Hitting and pitching, that's a whole different story." Yamcha allowed a slight bragging tone in his voice as he continued. "It takes A LOT of practice to get it right."  
  
  
  
"Really."  
  
  
  
Yamcha got the distinct impression Vegeta didn't believe him.  
  
  
  
"Yes. Of course, it didn't take me nearly as long as just any human." He flashed an arrogant grin in Vegeta's direction as they walked up the driveway. "I'm so talented and all." Vegeta shocked him when he made a small gagging noise, they kind you make when trying not to laugh.  
  
  
  
"Whatever." Yamcha glared at him.  
  
  
  
"What, you're saying I'm not talented?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
Yamcha couldn't help smiling as he unlocked the door.  
  
  
  
"Look who's talking." Vegeta raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Insulting, are we?"  
  
"Exactly," Yamcha said with a malicious grin. He opened the door and stepped inside. His stomach twisted as Vegeta followed. He was in his house. Now if only he could get him into his bedroom...  
  
Yamcha shook his head and practically ran into the door facing.  
  
"You uh... you want a beer or something?" Vegeta shrugged.  
  
"I suppose."  
  
Yamcha pulled two beers out of the fridge and tossed one to Vegeta. Yamcha leaned back against the counter to watch Vegeta seat himself at the table and pull the top off effortlessly.  
  
"So how do you play then?"  
  
"Well," Yamcha said, looking down at the white wisps escaping the neck of his bottle. "There aren't a lot rules, really, and they're pretty easy to understand."  
  
  
  
"Oh? And I thought it was such a hard sport." Yamcha didn't miss the condescending hint in his voice. He frowned despite himself.  
  
"If you think it's so dumb, than why are you asking?" Yamcha blurted. Vegeta paused, the mouth of the bottle touching his lips lightly. He simply shrugged and tipped the bottle up. Yamcha felt the irritation wash away as Vegeta's throat moved when he swallowed the alcoholic beverage. Little droplets of sweat from the bottle slipped across his knuckles and down his hand. He ran the tip of his thumb across his bottom lip after he swallowed.  
  
God, the way he drank...  
  
Yamcha righted himself quickly and walked to the table, seating himself for the sole purpose of hiding certain growing parts of his body. He took a drink of his own beer.  
  
"You're right anyway. Baseball isn't that interesting. I just need the money." He looked down at the table. He hadn't bothered to turn the lights on in the house, for the streetlight outside his window cast orangey stripes about the room. He could feel Vegeta's eyes on him. Slowly, Yamcha raised his eyes and became very still as he met Vegeta's. His black, glittering eyes pierced right through him, exposing him, making him feel naked and scared. What if he could see... see everything...  
  
"Doesn't anyone come to your games?" Vegeta asked quietly. Yamcha shrugged, holding Vegeta's gaze.  
  
"Krillin used to, but that was before he met 18. Bulma used to, too, but that was before..." he trailed off.  
  
"Before me." Yamcha jumped a little at the observation.  
  
"Hey, I'm sorry... I didn't-"  
  
"Stop apologizing already," Vegeta said exasperatedly. "It's getting annoying."  
  
Yamcha quickly dropped his gaze down to the empty Skyy bottle Vegeta held. Seconds ticked by as the two of them simply sat in silence. Finally, the prince turned the bottle on its side and rolled it back and forth slowly. The slits of orange light filtered through the bottom of the bottle, coming out the other side and creating a beautiful array of every shade of blue known to man on the wall. The shades shifted and faded as Vegeta turned the bottle rhythmically, only to be replaced by a different hue. Yamcha's interest peeked as an especially beautiful and intricate pattern laced the wall, but it quickly faded and was replaced by another by Vegeta's movements. Yamcha willed him mentally to turn the bottle that way again, but Vegeta, of course, didn't oblige.  
  
Ever so slowly, Yamcha rose from his chair. His movements didn't seem to catch Vegeta's attention as he watched the wall. Yamcha picked up his own bottle and made his way around the table. He paused as he stood by Vegeta's elbow, his presence continually unnoticed. Yamcha took a deep, quiet breath and swallowed all fear and foreboding he felt. Leaning forward over Vegeta's shoulder, Yamcha reached out and placed his hand over top of Vegeta's. Vegeta's actions ceased and he sat stock-still. Yamcha's insides trembled frightfully as he rolled his hand over Vegeta's and returned the bottle to the position he wished for. The wondrous, diamond-shaped pattern fringed the white paint. Yamcha reached his other hand, the one containing his own bottle, around Vegeta's other shoulder. There was still about an inch of the clear liquid in the bottom, so as he placed the container in front of the mouth of the bottle, the image swam and rippled celestially.  
  
Yamcha could feel the slow and steady rise and fall of Vegeta's shoulders against his chest with each breath. He found that he could simply rest his chin on Vegeta's shoulder if he wished; he was that close to the smaller man. Yamcha turned his head to study Vegeta's gorgeous profile. His breath caught in his throat. Blue tints bathed Vegeta's skin and made his eyes glimmer especially bright. Yamcha heart simply stopped when Vegeta turned his head slightly, pausing before he tilted his face the rest of the way. Yamcha could feel Vegeta's breath against his lips. He smelled of a mixture of alcohol and fresh air. The scents made Yamcha's head swim wonderfully. His heart skipped several beats and thumped irregularly against his ribs.  
  
"What..." The movement of Vegeta's lips snapped Yamcha's thoughts back on track. He could see the utter confusion in Vegeta's eyes; it startled him. Vegeta always knew what was going on and just how to handle whatever came his way. But this... this seemed to be beyond even his control. "What are you doing?" Yamcha wasn't sure what to say, so he remained silent and stared deep into the black depths of Vegeta's eyes. The smell of Vegeta and the heat of his breath against his lips finally drove all sense of moral from Yamcha's mind. He leaned in, closing the space between his lips and Vegeta's. He all but melted at the feel of Vegeta's amazingly soft, delicious lips. He kept the kiss gentle and barely there. He didn't dare try anything further.  
  
Vegeta leaned up slightly, pressing harder against Yamcha's mouth for a fuller, more 'there' kiss. He spread his fingers out and Yamcha let his slip down in between Vegeta's. He threaded his fingers together with the prince's and took his other hand from the bottle. He pressed it against the back of the smaller man's neck and squeezed gently. He massaged his fingers into his thick, black hair and slid his hand down between his shoulder blades. Vegeta rose slightly out of his chair when Yamcha's hand pressed into his lower back. Yamcha pulled him the rest of the way out of the chair and wrapped his arms around him tightly.  
  
He broke the kiss, running his fingers up Vegeta's side and neck. He tilted the man's head back and brushed his fingers lightly over his lips. Vegeta opened his mouth obligingly with a soft moan. Yamcha dipped his tongue into the warm, musky taste and felt Vegeta simply melt against him.  
  
That was it. He needed him, now.  
  
Yamcha pulled away, noting the objecting noise Vegeta made. He hauled the prince along with him quickly down the hall. He pulled Vegeta to him forcefully and opened the door to his bedroom. The two of them stumbled in and over to the bed. Yamcha pushed Vegeta down onto his back and tugged him up until his head was resting on his pillow, all the while crushing their lips together passionately. As Vegeta wrapped his arms around Yamcha's waist, he turned his head away, breaking the kiss with a hoarse, "Yamcha...."  
  
Yamcha latched on to Vegeta's wrists and jerked his hands away. He pinned his hands to the pillow beside his head and tried desperately to remember to breath. Vegeta lay unmoving save for his heaving chest.  
  
"Yamcha," he gasped. "I... I need..." Yamcha nodded silently. He knew what he needed; he needed it just as much.  
  
But he wasn't making it that easy. He didn't quite grasp the fact that the arrogant, proud, boisterous prince was allowing him to lay on top of him, kiss him, runs his hands all over his body... Yamcha wondered exactly what he could get out of Vegeta.  
  
He was going to find out.  
  
"What?" Yamcha managed as he leaned down. "What do you need?"  
  
"Yamcha..." Vegeta moaned while Yamcha kissed behind his ear and nibble at the sensitive skin. He finally released Vegeta's wrists and ran his hands down the gasping man's chest. The material of his tank top seemed to burn Yamcha's palms. He slipped his fingers underneath the shirt and pressed his palms to Vegeta's heated skin. He slid his hands further up, taking the shirt with him as he went. Vegeta stretched his arms up over his head, allowing Yamcha to peel the shirt away. Yamcha gazed down at the tanned skin that enveloped hard, strong muscles, tossing the shirt heedlessly to the floor beside the bed.  
  
"Nice..." was all Yamcha managed as he leaned down and brushed feather-light kisses along Vegeta's collarbone and down his chest. He slipped his tongue out and ran it across Vegeta's pecks, savoring the salty taste of his skin. He continued his wondrous movements down Vegeta's stomach, nearly driven over the edge by his luscious moans and yelps as Yamcha scraped his teeth over the skin above his belly button.  
  
"What?" Yamcha breathed against him. "What do you want, Vegeta? Tell me..."  
  
"Y... Yamcha... I..." Vegeta's breath hitched. Yamcha smiled. He loved the way he gasped his name. He chuckled and ever so slowly undid the button on Vegeta's pants.  
  
"Well? Come on, Vegeta, tell me." He undid the zipper much too slowly, pulling the black jean material away from his abdomen. He grinned as he realized Vegeta wasn't wearing underwear. No wonder he could see everything in those jeans... He toyed with the exposed skin, rubbing and squeezing with the tips of his fingers.  
  
"Come on Vegeta. What is it?" He trailed his fingers lower, touching the clothed area of interest. Vegeta let out the most wonderful, hitching shriek.  
  
"Yamcha! Dammit..." Yamcha pressed harder.  
  
"Come on. Tell me what you want. What's wrong?" Vegeta stared up at him with half open, clouded eyes.  
  
"I need... I need you to... oh, damn... I'm so..."  
  
" 'So' what?"  
  
"Oooh..."  
  
Yamcha grinned, pressing his palm up against the area he knew needed the attention. He squeezed. Vegeta arched his back up into his hand.  
  
"SHIT!" Yamcha let out a short laugh at his exclamation.  
  
"You like that, huh? You're so..." He trailed off, waiting for Vegeta to finish his sentence.  
  
"Dammit, Yamcha, I'm so hard... please... come on..." That was his cue.  
  
Yamcha pulled his hand away and sat back on his heals. He undid the few buttons in place and rolled his shoulders back, letting the soft material slide from them. He tossed the shirt over next to Vegeta's and rose slightly. He cupped his hands to the back of Vegeta's knees and pulled them up. He slid his hands down Vegeta's inner thighs, spreading his legs wide.  
  
"Yeah..." Yamcha breathed. "Now..." He hooked his fingers in the belt loops of Vegeta's pants and tugged. The jeans slid down off his hips. Yamcha trailed his eyes over every inch of skin as he removed Vegeta's pants. He grinned when the zipper s scraped Vegeta's hard skin and his hips jerked up.  
  
"Almost," he murmured.  
  
"Yaaaamcha..." Vegeta pressed his head back against the pillow and gasped. Yamcha swallowed hard.  
  
"Almost," he repeated breathlessly. He now had Vegeta completely naked and stretched out under him, completely willing to do anything. He hastily removed his own pants along with his black boxers. Vegeta leaned up, lips parted, wanting to feel Yamcha's lips against his own. Yamcha pressed him back down and crushed his lips against the smaller man's so hard he knew he was bruising both their mouths, but he didn't care. This was so good.  
  
Yamcha positioned himself, settling down on his knees and pressing himself between Vegeta's legs.  
  
"Are... are you sure?" Yamcha gasped in a fleeting moment of doubt.  
  
"Yeeeeees," Vegeta moaned into his mouth. "Please, oh, Yamcha, do it..." Yamcha's thoughts blurred beyond comprehension as he slid inside Vegeta. It was all he could do to remember to breath when the scorching, awesomely tight heat enveloped him. White explosions went off behind his eyelids.  
  
"V... Vegeta..." he choked out. "Oh fuck..." He couldn't hold off any longer. He rolled his hips into Vegeta slowly, not quite in control of his movements. He felt Vegeta's arms lock around his shoulders and pull him down, pressing his chest against his own and clutching his shoulder blades.  
  
"Yes!" Vegeta shouted. "Yes, Yamcha, yes!" Yamcha thrust into the Saiyan man, burying himself deep inside him. Vegeta pressed his knees against Yamcha's sides and arched up to meet his movements. Yamcha worked them into a quick, hard rhythm, thrusting mercilessly into Vegeta. He could feel a familiar, tight building in the pit of his stomach, along with something else he couldn't quite place. It swelled deep inside his chest, raising his temperature much beyond normal.  
  
"AH! YAMCHA!" Vegeta shrieked. Yamcha barely heard him. All he knew was he was in Vegeta, brushing that sweet spot, making him shriek and beg, and he couldn't take anymore. It was like a bomb went off inside him. He stretched out fully, thrusting into Vegeta once, twice, almost painfully hard. He threw back his head and roared out triumphantly. Vegeta's shout was lost to him as his Ki exploded, enveloping them both in a blinding white aura. It skyrocketed past what he had ever felt before as he emptied himself inside Vegeta.  
  
Yamcha dug his fingers into the sheets as he tried to calm his frantic gasps. He finally opened his eyes as he slid out of Vegeta and sat back slightly. Vegeta lay totally relaxed, every muscle in his body slack as he gazed up at Yamcha with hooded eyes. The heat of Yamcha's energy swelled around him, encircling him and calming his wildly beating heart and heaving chest.  
  
"Yamcha..." he breathed. Yamcha could only stare down at him in wonder and worship. Where had he learned that? How did he know how to invoke such feelings and pleasure? His Ki faded to its normal, controlled center, but both Yamcha and Vegeta could feel its new and smoldering strength. It was as if Vegeta had opened something deep inside Yamcha no one had even known was there.  
  
Yamcha sank down onto the bed next to Vegeta and wrapped his arms around the Saiyan prince possessively. He held him tightly, not willing to release him. Vegeta stretched out against him and hooked his ankles with Yamcha's, curling his fingers around Yamcha's shoulders with a groggy, satisfied "mmmm..."  
  
"Vegeta..." Yamcha whispered in his ear. He could think of nothing to say. Vegeta simply nodded and nuzzled his face into Yamcha's chest. They fell asleep like that, bodies and minds intertwined. Neither was aware of anything but the other, and both gave not a single thought to what would come tomorrow.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Well? What did you think? I'm wondering if anyone wants any further posts, because, unlike my other stories, I have this entire one drawn out in my mind. Would you all read? Don't forget those reviews! *waves* 


	2. DISCONTINUED

I'm really sorry guys, but if you hadn't already guessed, I discontinued this story (puppydog eyes). My parents went through a divorce, which was good actually, except for the fact I got stuck with my damn FATHER! (huff huff) 

Anyway, do not be disheartened! I have recently decided to kick up a website of my own, mainly featuring DBZ yaoi, but it can include "regular" stuff and yuri if I feel up to it. I'll be sure to post "Home Run" on there, and now I'm working on a Radditz/Vegeta story.

If any of you are interested, check back here some time and I'll let you know when it's up and take fan fiction submissions! (grins) It'll be fun, cuz I'm gonna put some art up there too!

Who knows; I may pick this story up again! (waves)


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